User blog:Xelak/Thirteen: An Epic
Thirteen brave warriors there stood in all For good or for evil, they know not where they fall Gathered in power by one like a god, Who focused them all with will like iron rod "For power! For conquest!" He cried as they amassed "This world will not know peace until my ambition finds rest!" So thither he sent them To conquer and bring All worlds under his power To gather them under his dark wing Thirteen they stood, both heartless and proud But under His hand, they all withered and cow'd For the first of their number, the very first one, Held madness in his grasp; he was the gods' very son The second of the thriteen, whom He had first commanded, Was the greates gifted of the group; power over all Darkness was he handed He stood as a lone hero, both true and loyal Little did he first know of his fate to play the foil As firm sentinels stood the numbers Three and Four Twin brothers were they, thresholders of His dark door The eldest, the third, held a scythe of blackest night His opposite's pale curved blade shone of purest light The fifth was a warrior in blade aswell as thought In battle nor in blood but in iron word he wrought The very vapours of the world he was given to rule, But none of this mastery aided him when he was made to play the fool Lady Six, though vicious, was a lesson to all in irony Try as she could, her attempt to hide in shadows was pure folly For some godly comic, an arbiter of divine abuse, Had placed in her care the powers of Light to use The next, fool seventh, was a well-accomplished liar A trickster, a clown, with sharp tongue and heart of Fire Though heartless, and so without any emotion, His antics, when gathered, could have filled an ocean Calm eight, an intellectual, a philosopher at hollow heart To say this was his depth, a liar thou would art For worship he did that serene goddess of old, And what beautiful destruction he performed under her hold Number nine was a young man, average, unadorned Any emotion, felt or expressed, he severely scorned Mistrusted did he the wicked heart's deceptions A lack of this tool granted him perception The tenth, a young one, was a girl with soul of Ice Long ago, at her birth, she'd sworn they'd pay the price Retribution she would rain, unmerciful and swift This single-mided purpose had created an unfathomable rift Stoic and stocky stood the man numbered eleven His height and his build seperated him from his brethren A trsusted advisor and close companion he was to the second He had been given the force of Earth to be reckoned Quiet and deep-thinking was Twelve In machinations and betrayals was not his to delve Another young man, his mind was only at fun His twists of reality showed that he'd only begun The final, young thriteen, was no more than a boy His innocence and ignorance made him most others' toy But the most powerful he was, as they would one day see None but the first two understood his Gravity Thirteen together they stood With one purpose went all Each wore on their head a black hood; None knew in the end, twelve would fall Category:Blog posts